Red on Grey, Red on Black
by SSSP-shhh
Summary: Two men meet on the scene of a crime, but are drawn together by so much more. SasuNaru
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! It's M! (And yes, B still exists. She's been doing the whole fan-art thing. So that's fun. She'll be back in the summer hopefully!)**

**So this is a little drabble I came up with in class. It's kind of an odd style, but I like it. It's part of a series sort of thing I think. I wouldn't expect regular updates or a precise storyline. It's just going to be in universe drabbles whenever I can add on. Which is something I'm excited to do!**

**As I'm sure you will be able to tell when you read this, there is a very slight Sherlock inspiration here. So, just as I say that I do not own Naruto, I'm going to own up to my inspiration.**

**I hope you guys enjoy!**

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A shot zooming in, angled slightly to the left, tilted as if the viewer could not quite stand up straight. Harsh breathing lit the scene better than the sun above hitting the gritty concrete. Steel buildings enclosed them, there was nothing green, barely even the blue of the sky. In fact, this wasn't natural at all. This had to be some outside thing, because he could not be stumbling on to this. No, he could not be stumbling on to something cold and grey, splattered with deep, gurgling red and barely stuttered breath. Backing away, feet stumbled over each other, the black leather boots scraping against each other, and taking the body on top of them down with them. New red stained the ground even as the frantic click of keys broke the silence. 911. Help. Help. Help.

* * *

As soon as they'd found him, they'd wrapped him in a yellow blanket. Words had hung on his tongue; it wasn't the cold that bothered him, but his palms, but none of them seemed to notice something wrong. He could understand that. With a dead body a few feet away, rocks in the tan of his skin was no big deal. But he couldn't help pressing them against the yellow blanket, letting the red seep through and flinching at the quick shock of pain.

They were talking to him like a child. He wanted to tell them that the sight wasn't the issue, just the shock of seeing it where it should not be. He'd seen this before, back in the days where he wasn't him. But it'd been so long since he'd had to deal with that hidden section inside. He could already feel it coming back, his mind already flashing to categorize what he could see: blood splatter spread, stab wounds, the look of shock. Not one of his. Or, not one of what used to be his. This was a crime of passion, not... well, not other things.

He clenched and unclenched his hands and it hurt in the most delightful way. It was better than thinking about the past and secrets. He turned his head, feeling the twist of the sinews in his neck with the motion. A bone cracked; he'd been still for a while. A crowd had gathered around the crime scene, but it was the upper side of town, so he didn't have anything to fear. No one was even looking at him. They were all straining for a glimpse of the body.

Except. There was a man, a young man, leaning against his motorcycle. He'd parked just outside the caution tape, leaning against one of the tall, nondescript buildings that was just a tree in the forest. Shadows cloaked him as he stared directly at where the body was, as if he could see through the crime scene investigators and the police and the yellow blanket itself. Except he wasn't looking in his direction at all. The man was smoking and staring, black leather jacket slick and smooth, white collar underneath although nothing about him indicated that he was an office worker. The red flannel tied around his waist made more blood leak onto the ground as his fists clenched tighter. Red on black plus white equals grey. Red on grey.

One of the officers finally approached the dark spectator, gesturing angrily while spewing inflammatory words. The man barely reacted, just staring until the officer walked away with an angry swagger to his stride. Taking one last look, eyes the color of the flat leather on his chest, he mounted his motorcycle. Looked in his direction, taking in the red stained yellow blanket, the shivers that wracked him. And drove away.

Watching the motorcyclist go, he let out a sigh of relief, although he wasn't sure why. It was hard to have those eyes on him. He wasn't sure why. One of the paramedics approached him. "You hurt your hands?"

In reply, he stretched them out for her examination, seeing the rubble that had burrowed into his skin. Tan and grey and red. A few tufts of the yellow fabric as well. It was fuzzy, soft in comparison to the hardness all around him. Giving him a sympathetic look that had probably been practiced in a cracked mirror at the hospital, she wrapped his hands up in gauze, neglecting to wash them. Even under the sterilized bandages, his hands were dirty. "There you go. Feel better, Mister...?"

"Uzumaki." He told her, and it came out more normal than he'd felt. But that was normal. His voice had normality cloned to a t. "Naruto Uzumaki. I found the..." Would he be a suspect if he let on about all that? Perhaps. "I was walking home from work..." Work. Another day being a drone in a nest with no queen. He hated work. His collared shirt was in his backpack, unlike the cyclist. "There was a man watching? An officer seemed to know him."

Her lips curled down into a frown of distaste and she tugged his blanket from between his guarded hands. She folded it, military neat. "There are always those sorts. The ones that like to see the crimes. Sickos." They weren't nice words, nor forgiving. Naruto understood them. It was all about the adrenaline of knowing you weren't the one dead on the ground. "He's a regular. Sometimes he knows things. About the crime. I wouldn't be surprised if..."

She went on, but he didn't care. He knew the eyes of a killer, and the man wasn't wearing those eyes. Not the disgust of an accident, the guilt of passion, or the excitement of joy. He was just... looking. How long had it been since someone had simply looked at the dead and seen nothing more than that? Not a tragedy, not a victory, not game. Someone that just looked at death. "What's his name?" He interrupted her, fiddling with the zipper of his dull orange hoodie, resisting the urge to pull the slate vest on top of it off.

There was concern leaking in now. "You're tired, I know but you'll have to go back to the police station." He couldn't look at her. He wondered what she looked like. He caught flashes of a picture: pinkish hair, or was that a hat? He tried to tell, but he couldn't concentrate on her. Even her voice went in and out. "-there'll just be a few questions, I'm sure you'll be fine, Mr. Umaki."

"Uzumaki," he corrected automatically. Would his clothing be good enough for a questioning? He wasn't sure. He would've combed his hair through with his fingers, but his hands were dirty. Even with the bandages. "I was wondering about that man's name."

Giving up on changing the subject, she let the air blow out of her. He thought it was the wind. "Sasuke Uchiha. He's a strange one. You shouldn't look for him."

But they both knew he was already planning too.

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The search wasn't that hard. There weren't many dark-haired young men out there who lived in Los Angeles and stalked crime scenes that went by the name of Sasuke Uchiha. He even had his own website. The Signs of a Killer. Naruto instantly wondered if with that one brief glance they had shared, he'd known.

The apartment, condo, shack that he lived in wasn't in the nice part of town. Not the bad part either, but he still didn't dare leave his suitcases in the car. Years of city life, and seeing both faces the concrete walls could show, had ensured he would never be not wary again. The double negative fit. Never be not wary. He rang the doorbell.

Sasuke Uchiha opened the door. He wore the same clothing. That wasn't relevant, wasn't surprising. His blackbird eyes examined, stripped Naruto's body slowly. He was hanging open, gears and shifts left out for all to see. Sasuke smiled, smirked, and his fingernails bit into the doorway. "You've still got blood on your kakis."

Naruto hadn't changed clothes either. "You were looking for a roommate?" His excuse was obvious, but he'd always meant it to be. The doorway behind was dim. Sasuke's nose was long and aristocratic. "May I come in?" He ground his shoes into the mat at the doorway, feeling so clearly the cement underneath.

"Glad you didn't say 'can'," the other said conversationally leaning on the white paint chipped doorway. "Always irritates me when people do. Of course you _can_. But may... I may not. There is a certain amount of indefiniteness about the word. You understand?" The tilt of his head, the drum of his fingers against the rotting wood clearly said he knew the answer. One of the buttons on his shirt was undone. Naruto itched to fix it. There was a pause, in which they could hear the mother and daughter fighting across the street. The sound drifted out the open window. "You may," Sasuke finally responded, and walked off into his apartment. Needless to say, Naruto followed.

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**I know its rather strange, but I hope you enjoyed! There will be further additions and some of them will warrant the M rating. Thank you for reading and please REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

It was weeks before Sasuke took him to a crime scene. Hours at the most. It was hard to tell. The apartment reeked of the infinite. Everything was a circle, except for the sharp-edged knife strapped to a wall, still as stinging as the day it'd been made. Naruto knew because he'd done the quickest test and added a few more drops of blood to his artistic collection on his khakis. Other than the knife, his favorite part about his home was that there were no clocks or mirrors. Without time or sense of self, the world could fall apart and the two of them wouldn't notice.

By the time he'd begun to crave something different, something with edges and corners, the phone in his pocket rang, three sharp trills that mimicked a siren. Pale fingers were more dexterous than his own at pulling the device free. Which worked, because the call was for Sasuke.

"Yes." He had to tilt his head up to watch the conversation, the dark male looming over him. The hand not wrapped around the phone strayed down to his neck and pressed lightly at the hollow his collarbone made. "Yes. We'll be right there. Can you ride a motorcycle?" The last was addressed to Naruto, who eagerly nodded, if only to keep that gaze on him so he could decipher it. "Yes. In a few minutes. Have the things ready." Snapping the phone closed, Sasuke tossed it out the open window. "Follow me."

The command went straight to him, pulling at his navel as he trailed after without question. The black leather of the figure in front of him was oh-so-enticing. He could smell the real scent from where he was. Once they were on the motorcycle, he was even closer and his arms replaced the red flannel around the others waist. Less bloody, and more rusty.

Only when the wind blew away his words was Sasuke ever really talkative. Speech flowed around Naruto's face, catching on broad cheeks and long, invisible lashes, but failed to reach his ears. Still, he imagined he knew what the other was saying. He responded in kind, and was pleased to find that since neither heard the other, they communicated wonderfully. Five minutes in, he was quite sure he'd been informed that they were heading to a lab for results on the body he'd literally stumbled upon. Of course, the fact that it was meth lab was a little bit of a shock, but it was hard to be perfect on a first try.

"One of yours?" Sasuke flashed a picture to the large man with unnatural blue tints to his skin. "Found 'em up by the industrial area. Found your mark on 'em." Naruto wasn't sure whether this was a bluff or not, because Sasuke couldn't have gotten close enough to see, but there was a degree of certainty in his voice that came from something that wasn't lying.

Either way, it was enough for the other man to grunt (a rather walrus-y sound) and wipe his hands on the filthy table before him. His clothes were messier, stains already running up and down the thighs of his pants. "We don't jump for you, Uchiha. 'Sides, that's not even our district." The clicking of his fingers unnerved Naruto as he was examined by this new man. "Who's the fresh meat? Another one of your lost and founds?"

Sasuke'd forgotten he was there. With a frown, he took in the blonde again. Astutely, he shook his head. "Found, sure, but not sure he was ever lost." When the other man tried to pass, Sasuke slammed one of his tables in front of him. "Kisame. Blood tests and the mark. She's yours. Infiltration or infiltrated?" Against the continued silence, the dark man dragged his uneven fingertips across the metal tables. "I know it's not to do with you. Just need the info for my picture. You know this shit."

"Infiltrated." Surely everyone capitulated to Sasuke. As far as Naruto could see, he had as well. He'd been summoned and he'd gone. Now here he was, and his fingers itched to be armed. Shady and seedy had that effect on him. Back in the forgotten times, he could've taken Kisame. Now he was standing behind, useless as more details were rattled off. "Just one of the average housewives that fuck up their lives 'cause they can. No regard for the rest of us, I swear. Never even spare of those who don't have the option."

Kisame's anger was assessed and disregarded in front of Naruto's eyes. Sasuke didn't give a shit. "We're feeling crime of passion? She got that in her?"

Shrugs could move mountains. Especially in front of their investigation. Especially as Kisame did so. "Dunno. You'd better check with her keeper. Hasn't been in a few days though, so good luck tracking 'er down. Might've hooked with the hubby. There's a scenario for you right there, 'Chiha."

A hum squirreled out of Sasuke's throat before he glanced at Naruto. His eyes persuaded him to step forward before he asked a question. "Lunch or keeper?"

Stomach saying one thing and mind another, Naruto fiddled with his vest. "Both. Unless it bothers your appetite." A test, sort of. It would ruin his taste for food at all. The promise of an answer for blood always got him hungrier. "Can I drive?"

"Nah." One pale hand pushed against his chest, shoving him out the door. "Don't have to pay neither." Teeth flashed as Sasuke brandished a wad of cash. "It's on Kisame."

The bellow behind them was lost to their silent conversation as they sped away.


End file.
